


Dispatches

by Lapsed_Scholar



Series: Season 9 Rewrites and Musings [2]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: AU-ish because Mulder's still here, But the episode stays mostly intact, Cell Phones, Dialogue-Only, Episode: s09e05 Lord of the Flies, F/M, Humor, Innuendo, Missing Scene, Season/Series 09, There's some sweetness too, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 08:37:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13050423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lapsed_Scholar/pseuds/Lapsed_Scholar
Summary: Dispatches from the government-issued cell phone of SA Dana Scully, MD.





	Dispatches

**Author's Note:**

> This really straddles the line between T and M, but there's enough innuendo that I bumped the rating.
> 
> Discussion of sexual harassment because, for some reason, Scully getting sexually harassed was a humorous subplot of this humorous episode.

_Incoming call from Doggett, J_

 

“Mulder.” 

“Mulder, it’s John Doggett. Is Scully there?”

“Um, yeah, I think she can be—hang on a minute, let me get her.”

[Indistinct shuffling, low voices, followed by very loud crying, which gradually fades in volume, and quiets even more after the close of a door.]

“Scully.”

“It’s John Doggett. Listen—any chance you can come out to New Jersey?”

“What’s in New Jersey?”

“A kid with his head caved in, and a ME who won’t touch ’im. Apparently the kid’s parents are prone to litigation.”

“And you’re calling me for this because...”

“When I say his head’s caved in, I mean half of it just collapsed. He was apparently doin’ a ‘Dumb Ass’ stunt, which went wrong, but it sure looks like it wasn’t an ordinary accident. He doesn’t look like a trauma victim for one thing, not much blood. But not much left of his head, either.”

“A what kind of stunt?”

“A stunt for the TV show ‘Dumb Ass.’”

“That doesn’t seem so mysterious to me.”

“It was apparently mysterious enough that someone gave the ME our number as the people who investigate weird stuff.”

“You _are_ the people who investigate weird stuff.”

“Yeah, so Dr. Fountain said. He keeps callin’ us the experts. Me ’n’ Monica aren’t experts in bodies. Woulda been nice to get somethin’ more out of the autopsy than a suggestion that we do it ourselves.”

“Look, Agent Doggett. This sounds like a personnel problem—”

“I haven’t got to the flies.”

“The flies.”

“I told you Dr. Fountain wouldn’t touch the kid, right? Well, there was somethin’ squirmin’ in his eye, so—”

“Dr. Fountain’s eye?”

“The body’s eye. Anyway, Monica didn’t have the compunction of Fountain, so she took a pair of forceps and poked at the eye. And a whole lotta flies just poured out. Covered the light directly above the body.”

“How many flies?”

“I dunno, a thousand, a couple thousand. How many flies are in a swarm?”

“You know that maggots eat corpses, right?”

“Not normally when they’re in the ME’s office, though, right? And that many? These were fully grown flies, too, from the look of it, not maggots. Not sure if the kid had some kinda medical condition that caused the accident. I don’t know of any medical conditions that cause a fly infestation, but that’s not my area of expertise.”

“You’re implying that it’s mine.”

“Look, they need an expert. I don’t know a better one for this, do you?”

[A heavy sigh.]

* * *

_Placed call to speed dial 1 (Mulder)_

“Mulder.”

“Mulder, it’s me.”

“Hey, Scully. How’s New Jersey?”

“A lot like it was the last time I saw it.”

“You don’t sound terribly chipper.”

“This case is ridiculous, Mulder, but I’m completely unable to explain it. A bunch of regular, ordinary flies apparently ate half of this boy’s head from the inside. His skull imploded from the action of the feeding flies, not from the accident. There’s no sign of trauma at all. In fact, the accident seems to have been caused by his death, not the other way around.”

“So a guy on a show called ‘Dumb Ass’ had shit for brains.”

“Doggett already beat you to that joke. Please spare me further iterations of it.”

“Oooo, ouch. My position as charming wit is being usurped.”

“Maybe. But, on the other hand, _you_ actually know what Spanish Fly is, don’t you Mulder?”

[A startled, sharp intake of breath followed by a bout of coughing.]

“ _Jesus_ , Scully. Give a guy a little warning next time. Are you, uh, asking me that for any particular reason? Because I gotta say, my very limited experience didn’t really leave me eager to repeat it, and I’m kind of surprised that you of all people—”

 “Wait, _experience_?”

“...No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’? You just implied—”

“You’re gonna have to buy me a drink—probably quite a few drinks—to get that story, Agent Scully.”

“OK. It’s a date.”

“...It’s not going to be a very _satisfying_ date if I’m that drunk.”

“You’re underestimating my potential sources of satisfaction.”

[A few deep breaths and slow exhalations.]

“Oh! Can you look up if there any Title IX complaints against the University of Rutgers entomology department?”

“...What?”

“I’m curious.”

“That’s a very specific curiosity, Scully.”

“So it is.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

[Crying, starting as quiet fussing and gradually increasing in volume to wailing. A sigh.]

“I think that’s my cue. We’re not quite ready to sleep through the night yet.”

“I do think it might be his teeth.”

“You’d definitely know that better than me.”

“Mulder?”

“Hmm?”

“I miss you.”

“I know. I know you do. Goodnight, Scully.” 

* * *

_Placed call to speed dial 1 (Mulder)_

 

“Hey, Scully. You’re interrupting a monumental construction project. It’s the tallest tower of blocks yet built by man.”

“Mmhm. And what is William doing while you’re assembling this feat of modern engineering?”

“I’ll have you know this is a joint project. William is...in charge of grabbing the construction material and sticking it in his mouth.”

“I would say that’s hereditary, but it’s normal for someone his age.”

“Yeah, yeah—I know my Freud, Scully. But you certainly seem to appreciate—”

“Let me stop you there, since it’s the middle of the afternoon, and I have to go back to work in a half hour.”

“Oh, hey, I looked up your Title IX request. Not a whole lot there, but it does turn out there were a couple of harassment complaints against one Rockwell Bronzino.”

“Rocky.”

“I take it you’re acquainted with this Rocky.”

“Far more acquainted than I’d like and not nearly as acquainted as he would like.”

“You want me to drive up there and stand next to you possessively?”

“Yes, because what this situation needs the most is for _you_ to come and validate him as a legitimate rival.”

“Er, Scully—”

“Because all someone needs to do is fawn over me and fling hackneyed compliments at me, and I will immediately latch onto him. Because I have no free will of my own and very little concept of affection or loyalty, other than being won over by cheap baubles and cheaper adulation.”

“Scully—”

“The very idea that I need to have a significant other in the first place to get him to leave me alone is aggravating. I don’t need an excuse to reject him. Even if I were single—even if I were actively _looking_ for dates—I’m not obliged to entertain the fantasies of _whomever_ wants to throw them at me.”

“Listen, Scully—”

...

“Well? I’m listening.”

“Sorry—got used to the cadence of that conversation. I was only joking, Scully. I do know you can handle yourself.”

“I know you were joking. But it’s just so...enraging that I have to deal with this. And I have to work with him, too. John and Monica get to gallivant off and interview bug-infested teenagers, while I’m stuck in the lab with Dr. Lecherous, who managed to come up with three different come-ons related to the discovery—that _I_ made without his help; some fly expert _he_ is—that all of the flies which ate our cadaver were females.”

“I...don’t know what to say to that. Other than I’m glad I’m still in Virginia.”

“John and Monica owe me for this.”

“Get them to babysit while you try to ply me with enough liquor to get the stories of my youthful sexual misadventures out of me.”

“Wait, how many stories are there?”

“Depends on how drunk I am. The lower my inhibitions are, the more stories you’ll get, but if they’re too low, I might just start making shit up.”

“I’ll plot a titration curve. Volume of ethanol against volubility of specimen, endpoint of the reaction is when all the stories are either exhausted or bullshit.”

“...You know what? I changed my mind. I want to be in New Jersey very badly right now.”

“There’s nothing to study here but dead flies.”

“I guess that _is_ a buzzkill.” 

* * *

_Placed call to speed dial 1 (Mulder)_

 

“Mulder.”

“Mulder, it’s me. Did you know that when a pair of calliphorid flies mate, they stay joined for up to one and a half hours?”

“Calliphorid flies and the young couple named Kelly. I take it this factoid comes courtesy of your new friend Rocky?”

“Along with a very basic explanation of how pheromones work in the insect world, and an even more basic one of how they work in humans.”

“Does this guy know that you’re a medical doctor? On people?”

“Well, studying bugs makes him the expert on pheromones and natural impulses, Mulder. He taught me that pheromones can cause insects to be driven mad with desire, and why shouldn’t they work exactly the same way on people?”

“Hey, look, Scully. I know I once flirted with an attractive entomologist with a stupid name, but—”

“He also taught me about ‘Women’s Dormitory Syndrome,’ menstrual cycle synchronization in women who live together. This is also caused by pheromones. Which he, as a _man_ who studies _bugs_ , is an expert in.”

“Um...”

“And it’s complete _horseshit_! There is no such thing as period synchronization! It’s simple statistics and humans assigning special significance to random patterns. In any set of women of child-bearing age, those women will have slightly different length cycles, and be menstruating about one-fourth of the time. Their periods move in and out of sync, and researchers and regular observers just notice when they happen to align. A number of studies with actual statistical and scientific rigor have thoroughly debunked it!”

“Um...” 

“I caved. I told him I was a mother to see if that would get him to leave me alone.”

“Ohh, that didn’t work, did it?”

“...How did you know?”

“Because to a man like that, the only thing that your maternal status means is that you’ve clearly had sex before, and therefore, he doesn’t see any reason why you shouldn’t be having it with him.”

“I hate men.” 

* * *

_Incoming call from Reyes, M_

 

“Scully.”

“Hi Dana; it’s Monica. John and I were interrogating Dylan Lokensgard when a huge number of flies swarmed down from the ceiling and covered him. They’ve evacuated the school, and his mother took Dylan home before we could finish our interrogation.”

“So Dylan got attacked, too?”

“Not exactly, and I think that’s the key to this. He was unhurt. I think he has an ability to commune with them, to direct them somehow, and that swarm was a show for us—to make it look like he was a victim instead of the perpetrator.”

“That’s an interesting theory—do you have any ideas about how to prove it?”

“Well, Dylan’s mother took him away, but we do have a sweat sample in kleenex. John and I are bringing it up.”

“You know what? Let me come get it. I would hate for it to get contaminated. Let me grab a sample tray.”

“You don’t have to do that, Dana; John and I are both experienced in handling crime scene samples...”

“Monica, if I don’t get out of this lab for a minute, there is going to be another murder.”

“Dr. Bronzino’s company wearing thin?”

“Unimaginably thin. So thin it requires an electron microscope to observe.” 

* * *

_Placed call to speed dial 1 (Mulder)_

 

“Mulder." 

“Mulder, it’s me. The case is over. A mother/son pair of human/bug mutants previously unknown to science did it.”

“That’s my girl.”

“We nearly got eaten alive by bugs once, didn’t we?”

“Ummm, yeah, back in ’93, I think. Or it might’ve been ’94. Prehistoric insects released by logging activity.”

“There was webbing, right?”

“A lot of webbing, yeah.”

“I thought this looked familiar. Dr. Bronzino got trapped in the webbing.”

“Do I have to ask if he’s dead before I comment on how appropriate that is?”

“He’s OK. He tried to _pretend_ that he was dead so I would give him CPR. Mouth-to-mouth.”

“Does he know you’re a medical doctor? On people?”

“Oh I don’t know, Mulder. Maybe that was a clever trick to get me to put my mouth on him. Maybe I was secretly lusting for his pheromones and needed the man to provide my womanly reticence an excuse.”

“I feel like this conversation should’ve come up before our kid threw up in my hair today.”

“I’m not actually fantasizing about performing CPR. It’s not very sexy, and if I’m performing it on someone I actually like, that person has a reasonably high probability of being dead very soon.”

“Well, I wouldn’t fantasize about it, either. Does this guy know that CPR breaks ribs and can damage internal organs if it’s really done well? By, for example, a medical doctor?”

...

“Scully?”

“Shhhh. I’m fantasizing about performing CPR on Dr. Bronzino.”

**Author's Note:**

> Spanish Fly is...not related to either pheromones or flies. I really have no idea why the writers thought Doggett wouldn't know that, unless the writers didn't know that. Mulder could conceivably make that reference while knowingly being wrong, but Doggett is too straightforward to operate on the level of meta that Mulder does.
> 
> Spanish Fly can also very easily kill you dead.
> 
> The young couple named Kelly are the protagonists of a reasonably famous, lewd limerick.


End file.
